


So Much and Not Enough

by cloudtreesium



Series: Horde of AU [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26997799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudtreesium/pseuds/cloudtreesium
Summary: How could she have so much and still feel like she had nothing?[HumanAU in which they are both orphans. Adora was adopted by Shadow Weaver and Catra was adopted by Hordak]
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Horde of AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901692
Kudos: 24





	So Much and Not Enough

After adoption, they don’t see each other until much later in life, the memories of each other distant. Sometimes, at night, as she lies awake in bed, Adora dwells on her friend from the foster system. Catra taught her how to stand up for herself and hit back. She is thankful for that lesson - it has taken her far in life.

Catra has a studded hair pin collecting dust in a jewelry box somewhere. She does not think about Adora, nor does she remember much from her young years at the orphanage. She has grown roots somewhere else, sewn new friends, built a sturdy support system.

They end up attending the same university - Weaver and Hordak believe it is the best thing for their children. They pass each other often on the campus.They do not recognize each other. Memories are known to falter and age does well to disguise those lost to time.

Adora progresses to complete her education in finance and commerce. She develops a taste for vintage clothes and pin-up styles. She reads novels on historical fiction, and she takes up martial arts.

Catra furthers her studies in social science, with the goal of entering a profession of law. She likes pinstripes and cuff-links and formal jumpsuits and flats and converse. She writes poetry, often as an outlet for a deep rooted sadness that has no name or cause. She dyes her hair, cuts it short, grows it out, dyes it again - the change is comforting in the way that it scares her. Sometimes she sneaks out of the house to join her friends for an evening spent roughhousing in an underground boxing ring. Hordak never asks her about the bruises on her cheek bones, afraid to prune his flower too close to the quick. But he always hands her the alcohol spray and, with a brushing kiss to her head, tells her to be careful.

Adora loves many and drinks affection like a bottomless shot glass.

Catra loves few and burns alive with the desperation of a smoking match stick.

There is a gala, many years later. Adora has grown into a sturdy 5′11 frame, fortified from an eternity spent fighting. With her ruby reds, she stands at a confident 6′3. Her hair swoops gently from her head in a long tail, curling softly at her back.

For Catra, Adora is Dorothy in Oz - different, stunning, eye catching, grand, beautiful, splendid, sweet - she is everything Catra is not. Catra feels scrawny in her lean, 5′6 body. Her hair coils in wild waves that crash against each other, fights against itself. At least, she tells herself in the bathroom mirror, where the lights sear into her retinas, at least she has good bone structure. At least her heterochromia makes her interesting enough to look at, if only for a few moments.

Adora finds her first. In the bathroom, the water glides easily along her fingers, washing away soap suds. The crown in her hair makes her look like a princess.

“Boring party, huh?” Adora smiles at her in the mirror.

Catra looks around the bathroom to make completely certain that this goddess of a woman is speaking to her.

“Yeah. They did a neat job with the lights, though.” She says, playing cool.

“Oh my god, you’re eyes.”

Catra looks away, despite the stranger’s enamored smile.

“No, no, no - sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Uh, I meant like, they’re really pretty.” Adora stumbles. She falls stunned when Catra looks at her - she finds something familiar in those eyes. A bond forged at the start of the centuries and held for just as long - possibly longer. Adora knows, in that moment, that she will possibly marry this woman. At the very least, this will not be another weekend fling.

Catra feels more at ease to discover that at least this princess is somewhat stuck in the clouds. She seems fun, easy going and the farthest thing from intimidating.

They hide out in the bathroom like school children, voices echoing against the tiled acoustics. People enter and exit the bathroom on multiple occasions and pay them no mind. They leave together in Adora’s convertible, and fall into Adora’s bed. Her apartment towers on the edge of the sky. In the bleak hours of early morning, Catra lifts her self from Adora’s soft grip and leans against the ceiling high window, pressing her whole body against the glass. It freezes her head and pushes an ache through her brain. She stays like that, forced to breathe deeply, afraid that the glass might give out and drop her into the endless abyss of cityscape. Eventually, she pads back to bed, skin chilled and muscles tense.

Adora wakes later. She kisses every freckle on Catra’s face, loops her fingers in her curls, carries her to the kitchen and sits her on the counter. Catra is not allowed to move until Adora presses a bowl of cereal and milk into her hands. Catra eats it all. She has no heart to tell Adora that she does not particularly care for froot loops. In general, she holds no respect for breakfast.

After a shower, Catra watches from the bed, bundled in the comforter, as Adora gets ready. She feels bad for soaking the sheets with her wet hair and damp body and says nothing. She is safe and warm and empty. In her mind, she writes her poetry, a draft to be saved for later, something to capture her pathetic existence. Even in the afterglow of a tender six hours spent in Adora’s arms, something dark still twines between the spaces of her ribs. Ashamed is a word she uses to describe herself because -

Adora’s back slopes gracefully in the sunlight as she stoops to grab a bra from the bottom drawer. It snaps easily to her body and pushes her breasts to accentuate their lushness. A droplet necklace strives to plunge between her cleavage and stops short, a dying man hanging. The lipstick ties everything together. It is a pastel shade of mahogany. It frames her pretty teeth when she smiles at Catra.

\- because.

How can she have so much and still feel like so little?


End file.
